


Liebling, it’s cold outside

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Christmas Smut, F/M, M/M, Multi, One Established Relationship, Overdue Declarations of Love, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Tis the season for bad weather and romance. Liechtenstein, Hungary and Germany get, respectively, some lovin', the boy, and sick leave in their stockings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A cozy cottage in the Alps

Her hand was perched on Brother's shoulder as she turned to look outside the window. Liechtenstein would have been inclined to say that snowflakes were dancing in the air as though led by a song no one could hear —such was the magic of the season— but it seemed that on this particular night, Winter was firing ice pellets into the dark. She also knew about this kind of things, thanks to Brother's lessons.

"Please stay," she said to Austria. Her fingers stood in place, lest Brother made for the door and tried to send their guest away. "I'm afraid the weather has taken a turn for the worse."

"The weather won't kill him," Brother said, his posture faltering the slightest. It was only a matter of persuasion, she knew.

"Certainly, it won't," Liechtenstein conceded, "but it's Christmas Eve, Brother."

His face turned sour. "Precisely, Liechten. Do you think it's good manners to barge in other people's fête?"

"There's no need to concern yourself," Austria said, straightening his coat with a deliberate, elegant gesture. "I have a prior engagement, after all, and I'm running late as it is."

"Perhaps it would be wise for you to call Germany first." Her fingers were itching to ruffle her dress, but she was being obvious enough. Austria regarded her with a curious expression, lips slightly parted in surprise, and even Brother seemed to have noticed something was the matter. She didn't feel explanations were needed, however. The wind's howling spoke for itself.

"If it puts your mind at ease, Liechtenstein," Austria said, and she committed to memory the cadence of his words, the sound of her name on his lips.

Brother spun on his heel not to have to face him. "I bet you don't even have a mobile phone of your own, do you!"

"The telephone is over there." Liechtenstein said. Austria gave her a graceful nod and walked towards the foyer, and if she didn't jump for joy, it was only because she didn't deem it proper. To say that she enjoyed Austria's company was an understatement of her feelings, and although Brother would rather die than to admit it, Liechtenstein knew it was the same for him. He might not bear the sight of their neighbor, but neither could he live without him.

"I understand," Austria said, then hung up, pushing his glasses against his slight frown. "It seems they were looking for me, but they have been forced to take shelter. Germany's advice is to do likewise."

"Only a fool would lose his way in the manner you have!" Brother spat, his face red like _Samichlaus'_ cloak. "Who in their right mind would mix up north and west?"

"Glühwein?" Liechtenstein offered.

"If you please." Austria settled on the piano and started to play the first notes of _Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht_.

"Just what do you think you're doing!" Brother shouted, losing momentum as the melody filled the air.

Liechtenstein smiled. "Isn't that nice?"

Brother opted to grumble, instead.


	2. Somewhere south with a funny German name

"On the bright side, at least we're safe and warm now," Italy chirped. The mattress was as springy as he imagined clouds to be, and that thought alone made him do a happy little sound in the back of his throat, very much like a baby's gurgle.

Germany wasn't amused. "You speak for yourself."

"Hehe," Italy let out a sheepish giggle. "Silly me. Let me help you out of those wet clothes, Germany!"

"I can handle that myself," Germany said, and then, "What are you—"

Germany was smart and strong and had a body finely chiseled like one of Michelangelo's sculptures, but Italy was quick on his fingers. Before Germany could do a thing about it, Italy had undressed him to his underwear and reached for a towel to dry his skin.

"You can be thorough when you set your mind on it," Germany whispered, his voice deep and a little hoarse. Was his throat sore, by any chance?

"You would be surprised," Italy said, his palms pressed against Germany's back before he pulled him into a hug. "Germany, you're still cold."

He let his head rest on Italy's shoulder after a little while. Italy felt each muscle rise and fall under his fingers, and although the tips of Germany's mussed hair tickled his neck, he thought against mentioning it. Germany might take it the wrong way and, God forbid, pull away.

"Some Christmas Eve, this one. Everything went out of schedule," Germany mumbled, using the kind of tone that implied nothing short of downright apocalypse instead of life being, well, life. "My brother must hate my guts."

"Germany, he didn't hate you during the many years you were apart. What's a night in comparison?" Italy said, taking Germany's face between his hands and feeling confident that his logic was flawless, for a change.

"You don't understand Brother's penchant for Christmas. He was looking forward to it since early October," Germany said with such feeling that Italy couldn't help wincing and picturing Prussia dressed like The Little Match Girl.

"Were his Christmases so awful on the other side?" Italy asked, leading Germany to the bed.

Germany's brow furrowed in a funny pattern. "You've seen his _cars_."

If Italy hadn't known him since forever, he would have missed the nuance behind his words and asked, _What do cars have to do with anything, Germany?_ or something to that effect. But Italy knew better. In Germany's mind, East German cardboard cars could only imply a lousy quality of life, Christmas Eves included.

"I heard they replaced the _Christkind_ with a Sputnik ornament, once," Germany added with a horrified look on his face, and Italy had to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh at him. He could be quite cute, sometimes.

"Now, now, I wouldn't be too worried." Italy threw Germany's clothes on a chair by the fireplace. "Didn't Hungary stay behind as well? They'll keep each other company."

"It's what worries me the most," Germany said.


	3. In the streets of brightly lit Berlin

Hungary didn't know where else to go looking for him.

She had called the landline and tried to reach him through his cell phone enough times to resemble a stalker, but she was past caring about such matters. A hunch told her that he was still out there, and although she could have returned to Germany's house to wait for him —she had a spare key in her purse, after all— she refused to give up.

After passing through the Christmas market on Unter den Linden for the nth time, she spotted him at last, zipping his jacket all the way up and crossing his arms against his chest. Prussia also saw her, for he twisted his face into a scowl and turned the other way like a spoiled child.

"Why didn't you answer my calls?" she asked, slapping his arm.

"I slipped on a stupid sidewalk and dropped my phone on the road. A car crushed it before I could pick it up," he said.

His nose reminded her of a certain famous reindeer, and all Hungary wanted was to pinch his cheeks until they were rosy as well. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I—" he paused midsentence, looked at her from head to toes and yelled, "No, I'm not okay! Christmas is fucking ruined and all thanks to your, your—"

"Neighbor?" Hungary supplied.

"Yes, your damn neighbor! Wait, what?" Prussia did a double take, staring at her with those rare eyes of his.

"What you heard," Hungary said, a little absent-minded. God, she could swear they were a different shade every time she took a peek. He had long eyelashes, too.

"Yeah, right!" Prussia snorted, then squinted with something akin to suspicion. "Thinking about it, you don't seem worried about Austria at all. Do you know something we don't?"

"I'm certain help will come his way, were he to find himself in need. 'Tis the season," Hungary said, putting her arms behind her back and balancing her weight on the balls of her feet. "That's all."

"And we Prussians just _love_ to wear lederhosen. Hah, don't make me laugh!"

"Okay, okay, you got me. He probably got lost and ended up in South Tyrol or Zurich. It wouldn't be the first time, is what I'm saying, so he has acquaintances along the way."

"He's probably gulping down wine and gobbling cheese as we speak, this freeloader neighbor of yours," Prussia said, arms akimbo and chin jutting out. "Is he really nothing more than—"

"He isn't," Hungary said. "Nope."

"Then why the hell did I freeze my ass looking for the pansy? Goddamn!" Prussia said, going on a tirade about Christmas this and Austria that.

She looked up to meet his gaze. "Say, were you looking for him for my sake?"

"Stupid me who thought you would be miserable otherwise. Ugh, how I hate you sometimes, woman!"

Prussia seemed to be far too upset about the holidays, but Hungary couldn't help herself. "And what about the other times? Do you do the opposite?" she asked, teasing him.

He spun on his heel with a groan but lost his footing; she caught him in time before he tumbled to the ground.

"Did someone hand you a spiked drink somewhere? You can be too trusting at times, you know?"

Prussia sniffled, trying to slip from her embrace. "Leave me alone."

She let go grudgingly, puffing up her cheeks at him. It was Christmas Eve, for Christ's sake! Would they never reach a détente?

They walked in silence to where his car was parked, kicking the snow that stood on their way. He settled on the driver's seat and opened the door for her, dropping the keys on the floor.

"I've got them," Hungary said and bent to pick them, jiggling them once they were in her hand.

Instead of getting them back, Prussia flopped on top of the steering wheel, breathing heavily as he honked the horn with his weight. "Shit," he said.

"You're burning," she said, touching his face and pulling him towards her. "Why didn't you say something? No wonder your nose was like Rudolph's!"

"What are you talking about," Prussia mumbled, eyes barely open. "I just need to catch a few winks and we'll be all set."

"Uh-huh, we'll be set deep into a wall if you drive!"

She rounded the car to take the wheel, but only after she had eased him on her seat and buckled him up, pulling a blanket from the backseat to tuck him in. If he had brought one with him to begin with, it meant that he was feeling ill since early in the night.

"Really, _you_ ," Hungary complained. Even then, she still watched over his sleeping form for a moment, running her fingers through his hair before she started the car.


	4. Heat, sugar and spices

As she stirred the wine, Liechtenstein remembered.

The first time she happened on these notions had been summer, clear blue skies by day and warm nights. She had awoken to find herself drenched in sweat, her nightgown wrapped tight against her body and fire on her flesh.

In the beginning she had gone about her day with the same disposition as always, but the thoughts weaved themselves into each of her movements, following her like a shadow across her garden and among the fabrics, laces and trims from her craft room. 

Soon enough it became clear that running away from her own mind would be futile, so she chose acceptance. It suit her penchant for stoical heroes and heroines who faced adversity with a smile, after all. But when she found herself cancelling her weekly appointments with Austria, she realized something was amiss.

"I'm afraid I'm indisposed this week too," Liechtenstein had said over the phone, feigning hoarseness. She would have preferred for the earth to engulf her before saying she was unable to approach her pianoforte without falling prey to emotions she couldn't name.

"I see," he had said, and then, "I hope you get well soon."

Even if Prussia had once said that all Austria did was to slack off like a high and mighty sloth, a man of his stature was bound to have a busy schedule. She was fairly certain that he wouldn't be upset about her absence but relieved, yet she could swear that she had heard a dejected tone in his voice.

It gave her pause.

Since her aspirations were humble and grounded in reality —all she wished for was to play the piano alongside him and taste his delicious pastries— Liechtenstein used to think that living off fantasies while she kept a distance would be enough for the likes of her. If anything, asking for more would have been nothing but a hallmark of greed. But now, in light of his feelings, she doubted whether not seeing Austria was for the best.

She couldn't help thinking of how Brother had grown apart from him as well, and of the many things that had remained unsaid throughout the years. Who would act as a bridge between them if she refused to go to Vienna for no other reason than her foolishness? Come what may, she couldn't allow it. She needed a counselor in matters of the heart, and seeing as how Brother was unable to impart the kind of advice that she required, she looked westward.

France, she found, had a wholly underserved reputation.

He treated her with nothing but delicacy, guiding her along the way and entertaining her every question, no matter how naïve.

"Treasure this feeling," France had said, the beautiful sunset sky of Paris as their backdrop. "It's a precious thing, even if it remains unrequited. For one, I would feel honored to be cherished by such a lovely young lady as yourself, were I Switzerland."

"And what if..." Liechtenstein trailed off, fiddling with her fingers. Her face felt impossibly warm. "I mean, is it possible to love more than one person at the same time?"

France dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief and said, " _Ma chérie_ , who would have thought that I would find a kindred soul in you!"


	5. Krampusz

It was a little overcrowded in the tub, but Italy minded it as much as he had the Christmas cookies, baked apples and roasted goose they had earlier for dinner. That is to say, he didn't mind it one single bit. In fact, they could stay there until they turned into raisins and it would still be fine by him.

Germany's mind was still elsewhere, though, or else he would have said something about the foamy, spiky hairdo that Italy was giving him. He was tempted to test what else he could get away with, but he had the impression that Germany needed pampering more than he did sexy times. _Poverino_ , Italy thought.

"I'm not Holland. Or Denmark," Germany said at last.

"Anything looks good on you." Italy dropped a kiss on Germany's shoulder before returning his hair to its original state. "Were you able to reach Prussia?"

"He wouldn't answer," Germany said, then sighed.

"Well, let me try to call Hungary!" Italy patted his hands on a nearby towel and stretched as if he were made of gum to reach for his phone.

Germany, who had been resting his head against Italy's chest, grabbed the rim of the tub and sat up at once. "Wait, are you going to call her _now_?"

"Sure! She can't watch us through the phone, you know? Although it sure would make her day." Italy giggled as he waited for Hungary to pick up. Germany's ears went red.

"Italy," Hungary whispered a bunch of kilometers away. "Are you two okay? Did you find somewhere to stay for the night? Did you run into Austria?"

"Yes! Yes! No!" Italy answered all three questions. "But I heard from Germany that he was at Switzerland's house, so he must be okay!"

"I _knew_ it. Ah, I should have bet something!"

Italy heard a little slap in the background.

"What was that?" Germany mouthed.

"Hungary, someone here wants to know what was that!" Italy said, and Germany made the exact same sound than her, only wetter. "You're with Prussia, right? Did he do something to you? I guess that's what was on Germany's mind. Was it, Germany?"

She chuckled. "That was my palm meeting my forehead."

"Uh-huh, Germany just went and did the same thing and now he's scowling at me. Boy, he looks kind of scary when he does that."

Upon hearing that, Germany's expression changed from constipated to angry. "Would you just—"

"Tell him that his brother is in one piece!" Hungary said, and Italy pressed his phone against Germany's ear. "Prussia's running a bit of a fever, but he's otherwise unscathed. He's sleeping now, but I'll tell him to give Germany a call as soon as I get him home."

Germany looked down, clearing his throat. By now his ears were crimson red with embarrassment. "Thank you, Hungary."

"Don't worry, Germany. I, the Krampus, won't harm your brother this Christmas Eve," Hungary said, amused.

"Roger!" Italy said, kicking bubbles in his excitement. "Merry Christmas to both of you and see you tomorrow! Good luck, too!"

"The same to you," Hungary said, then hung up.

"I love to talk with Hungary! She has such a warm voice." Italy put his arms around Germany and sighed against his nape, giving him goose bumps. "See? I told you it would be fine and—"

"And what?"

"And all that!" Italy said, biting his tongue. It wasn't his place to tell Germany about Hungary's feelings, even if Germany himself had once said in a candid, tipsy moment that it would be nice to have her as his sister-in-law.

"Um, feeling better? Now that you know Prussia is in safe hands?" Italy asked, changing the subject.

Germany nodded. "Brother did seem to be under the weather, now that I think about it, and—"

"And?"

Instead of answering, Germany sneezed.

"Uh-oh," Italy said.


	6. Dinner for one

"Prussia," Hungary said, caressing his cheek to wake him up. His fever had gone down, but he still was too warm for her liking.

He stirred, rubbing his eyes. "Where are we?"

"We're at your house." She offered her hand to him and said, "Come?"

"I can get out of the car on my own."

He was making a bit of a pout, so she did her best to humor him and his childish tantrum. "I'm sure, but it's cold and I could use your warmth." Without more warning than that, she hugged Prussia's waist and helped him all the way to the living room, tucking him on the couch.

She removed her coat and scarf, and hung them from the stand instead of throwing them somewhere as she would do at home. Otherwise, Germany would probably have a fit when he came back, and his eye twitch wasn't nice to watch. "Italy called."

Prussia, who was trying to disentangle from his blankie, looked up with eyes so bright that she almost skipped a beat. "And what did he say?"

"Germany and him are staying the night somewhere on the road." _Sharing a bed, most likely. In the nude_ , Hungary didn't say, but the mind images she came up with warmed her inside nonetheless.

"Huh." Prussia pouted again, snuggling up to a pillow for comfort.

"Austria is at Switzerland's—"

"Like I care!"

Hungary plonked down right next to him, drawing circles on his knee to get his attention. "See, I was telling Italy that I should have made a bet with you."

He started to brush his thumb along her hand, casually and perhaps without even noticing it himself. "Yeah? What kind of bet?"

"Whoever lost had to give the other a kiss," she said, smiling. "I would win either way."

Prussia stared at her dumbfounded, then pulled away with a gasp. "Y-you're just flirting with me as the pansy's stand-in!"

"I'm not!"

"Are too!"

"Am— Ah, I just remembered." Hungary pulled her phone and went through the directory. "I told Germany that you would give him a call as soon as possible. He was worried about you, so call him?"

"But not enough to stay for Christmas, was he! Meh, gimme that." Prussia picked up her phone and called Germany, tapping his fingers against the couch as he waited.

Hungary ruffled his hair. He tried to bat her hand away, but only met air. "Heh."

"Knock it—! Ah, West? It's me. 'Christmas and see you one day, I guess." He ended the call, returned her phone and went back to sulking.

"What was that? Did you even let him speak?"

His shoulders shrugged up to his ears. "I don't want to be too lenient on anyone who was so cold-blooded as to abandon his very own brother in his hour of need."

Hungary burst up laughing. "Gee, Prussia, why are you so upset?"

"Just let me be," he said softly, using such a wistful tone that it made her heart sink. Before she could say anything, he used the armrest for support and got up on his feet. "I'm starving. You must be hungry too, eh?"

"Are you sure you're well enough to stand?" she asked, but he made his way to the kitchen without replying.

Hungary heard him mess around with the dishes and went to help him, marveling at all the food there was before her eyes. Roasted chicken, cute little sausages and mountains of potato salad stood on one side, and among the sweets, tiny potatoes made out of marzipan, a rather plump stollen, and cookies shaped like Christmas trees, stars and bells topped with frosting and colorful sprinkles.

"Oh my God," she said.

"Yeah, eat to your heart's content or it will go bad." Prussia served generous helpings of everything for the both of them and made her follow him to the dinner table, which had been arranged with the same amount of care.

"Go ahead," he said when he caught her staring at her plate. "They taste better than they look."

She did as told, and the food just melted in her mouth. "Oh God, you're right. It's lip-smacking good, actually."

"And the cookies! Try the cookies," Prussia said, beaming. "It's a wonder they survived my continuous plunder!"

Hungary examined them from up close. The borders were kind of squiggly and uneven, but what gave away the mastermind behind them were the little faces drawn on them. They looked like this:

(｀フ´)

"Say, Germany didn't make these, did he?"

He puffed out his chest at her. "No, I cooked and baked everything. And don't look at me like that, I had plenty of practice every Christmas and New Year's Eve I spent on my own."

The cookie slipped from her fingers and into her plate. "Alone? You spent all those holidays behind the Wall alone?"

"The same procedure as every year, Miss Hungary." He started to play with his food instead of looking at her, plowing his potato salad with his fork. "I did go to some parties here and there, but I always stayed home on the date itself."

She couldn't believe her ears. Everybody had their share of lonely holidays, including her, but this was ridiculous. For crying out loud, she had been stuck with him in the same pathetic bloc for years. Couldn't he have given her a call or something? "You could have invited me over!"

"You could have just come."

For once, Hungary was at a loss for words. "I wish— Hey!"

He didn't wait for her to finish, carrying his plate back to the kitchen as if nothing was the matter. She followed close behind.

"You barely ate a thing, Prussia."

"I'm not that hungry. Must be the flu." Right after, he stumbled and dropped the food on the counter, crouching over it like an old man.

"I'll handle that." Hungary took the plate from his hands and put it down, looking for a cloth to clean up the mess. "You ought to go to bed, now."

"At your command." Prussia gave her a weak smile. He seemed to lack the energy to fight back, poor thing, for he set off to his room without complaints.

Hungary peeked into the aisle, and once she made sure he wouldn't collapse on the way, she shifted to battle mode. Once there, she cleared the table, put away the leftovers and left the kitchen sparkling clean in no time.

"May I?" she asked, knocking a single time before going into his room. Prussia had changed into flannel pajamas and was in the middle of dragging himself to bed. He really had to be feeling like crap, considering that she had breezed through each chore and he still wasn't lying down. "Just in time to tuck you in, I see."

"Hah, I don't seem to have any witty retort."

"Don't worry, I'll pretend you had and that it was wickedly clever." She kissed him on the cheek and he let her do her thing, fluffing up his pillow before he lay back and pulling the covers just below his chin after he did. "Promise me that this time around you'll give me a shout if you need something. Anything."

Prussia stared at her, pursing his lips as he took in her words.

"Will you?"

"Okay," he said in a small voice.


	7. Liechtenstein’s fantasia

The glühwein gave her a pleasant, warm feeling, made her heart flutter instead of letting it pound as a caged bird yearning to be set free. She thought of France's advice, to be herself first and foremost.

It had been the opposite of what she had expected. Barring a miracle, she had been sure that her innocence prevented her from attaining that which she most wanted. A simpleton like her becoming a seductress! The mere thought had seemed ludicrous. Except for how genuine were her feelings, she didn't find anything enticing about her person. Nevertheless...

_Let it guide you_ , France had said, leading her hand to her bosom, until she could feel her own heartbeats. _Don't fear to be vulnerable. When it comes to love, we all are_.

Could she also count Austria among those susceptible to vulnerability?

Liechtenstein thought him virtuous, even though she wasn't a stranger to his stern, slightly disobliging side. Brother signaled it as a major flaw of character, but she disagreed. In her eyes, Austria's foibles made him human instead of a statue framed within a niche, cold, distant and impervious to feeling, if exquisitely crafted.

More than that, she knew that he was in possession of a sensibility only known to artists, for although he didn't speak about his emotions openly, he poured them over music that touched the soul. Such a being had to be passionate without a doubt, and if she considered he had been married, it was impossible for her mind not to stray. Whenever she thought of Austria's skilled hands on Hungary's strong, beautiful body, she felt inadequate, but also full of desire.

"Any request in particular?" Austria asked as soon as he finished playing _O Tannenbaum_.

"Yes, for you to leave this moment." Brother crossed his legs, staring at the snow falling in heaps outside the window. "But since it would be a waste of our St. Bernards to go looking for you, I guess you might as well stay."

Austria hummed in response. "Liechtenstein?"

" _Dein ist mein ganzes Herz_ ," she said with all the inner strength she could muster.

He nodded and started to play the first notes, and she stood behind him. She remembered his retreating back as he went through the streets of his _Innere Stadt_ , mingling with the crowd until he was just a dot in the fabric of the city. Would that she had been the wind ruffling his hair!

Before she knew, her fingers were tiptoeing his shoulders to the rhythm of the music.

Austria turned to her. "Yes?"

The butterflies in her stomach were creating a storm inside her, but she pressed forward and smoothed Austria's cravat. As in a child's game, she kissed his forehead and his nose, skewing his frames as she went along, and he, who had remained silent until then, only became flustered when she dropped a kiss on the beauty mark below his lips.

Brother almost fell from his chair. "Liechten, what on Earth!"

Austria held onto the bench until his knuckles were white, a thumb hovering over his chin. "I'm flattered, Liechtenstein, but I'm afraid—"

She shook her head, gifting him with her brightest smile. "It is enough that you know, that both of you know how dear you are to me. I don't mind to be but the path that leads the two of you to one another. Here," she pointed to the piano and kept talking, lest she became overcome with emotion. "Austria, you might think my brother loathes you, but that's not the truth."

"Liechten!"

"It's true, Brother." She went to him, interlacing his fingers with hers. "You see, Austria, he doesn't like to play the piano, yet it takes center stage in this cottage, his favorite place in the world. It was here before I came, and it would remain in the same place even if I were to leave."

Brother passed his hand through her locks, then cupped her face. "Fool! You mean so much more to me than what you seem to think."

She chuckled, tears pooling in her eyes.

Austria tapped her shoulder, and though delicate, his touch went through her like lightning. "You didn't allow me to finish speaking, Liechtenstein."

"I'm sorry," she said, eyes fixed on her shoes and face burning as though it were on fire. She tried to think of France's words and treasure her courage, but it was hard to do when all she wanted was to hide below her thick woolen coverlet. "Please, go ahead."

"I'm afraid I'm much older than you," he said simply, wiping his fingers under her eyes.

It was such a shame that her sight was blurry, since she couldn't see his features properly, the fine details that made up his handsome face. "I— I may appear young, but I'm old at heart! A few centuries of difference are of no consequence to me."

For a moment, Brother and Austria looked above her head, as though sizing each other up.

"If you harm her in any way, I'll pepper you with bullets."

"Should I say likewise?"

Liechtenstein paid no attention and led them by the hand, giggling. Unlike the narrow bedframe he had chosen for himself, Brother had furnished her room like that of a princess, with a bed wide enough for the three of them to fit comfortably.

"You're going too fast, Liechten. This fellow and I have barely reached an agreement," Brother said, but he still settled among the lacy pillows she had sewn.

"Allegro becomes you," Austria said, and she made sure to match the description, doing her utmost to rise above her bashful self in order to set the tempo that kept Brother and him involved.

She pressed a hand against her ribs and let out a deep, shuddering breath before taking the time to kiss them one at a time, the taste of vintage wine and cinnamon on their lips. A small tug from each side was enough to bring them closer, until the warmth of their bodies surrounded her like a blanket in a cold winter's day.

Brother's eyelids closed, Austria's lips parted, and she sat back, listening to their heartbeats as they shared a kiss, her cheek resting on Brother's chest and a hand pressed against Austria's. She might have felt she was intruding if it hadn't been for the way they looked at her afterwards, a puff of warm breath on her earlobe and a soft nibble bringing color to her skin.

Beyond that point, she was hopeless. If Austria hadn't taken the baton, they would have ended up in a tangle of limbs, none too helped by her inexperience. Brother responded in kind, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady what would have been otherwise senseless flailing on her part.

Austria's lips were on her at last, traversing from her calf to the curve of her knee, peeling away layers and layers of clothing that pooled around her ankles. She took off his glasses and set them on the nightstand, and then, with her right hand in Brother's, and her left arm thrown around Austria's neck, she closed her eyes, letting out tiny little gasps. She wanted to see, to taste and to know everything, but the sensations overwhelmed her.

Pain? By God, she could take it if it meant to have them both this close, Brother's firm hand settling on her hip and Austria's hot lips kissing the small curve of her breast, the widest of smiles drawn on her face.


	8. Children's tales

"Perhaps it's high time we attach a GPS tracking unit to Mariazell," Germany said, explaining in technical detail how the procedure would be executed, merely as an exercise in problem solving, of course. On the other hand, they could always have Austria's glasses altered into a see-through head-mounted display in case he still refused to use a map application like a sensible person.

Italy was kissing his jaw and humming in empty agreement much to Germany's chagrin, fingers straying south _again_. He didn't even know whether it was worth it to give Italy a lecture at this rate, or whether it would worsen his headache. He could just picture Italy giving him little nods and uh-huh's as his eyes glazed over, as well as a _Yes, Germany, whatever you say_ to keep the peace.

It was like talking to a _wall_ , sometimes, and try as he might, the feeling evoked his bittersweet sojourns into West Berlin instead of mere exasperation. It wasn't fair to Italy, but even someone as rational like him couldn't rise above certain mental associations.

Oblivious, Italy purred against the crook of his neck while Germany stood very still, wondering why Italy was tuning him out in such a blatant manner. Was he truly so inadequate as a partner that he couldn't even hold Italy's attention? It didn't seem to be so farfetched a possibility, since he had already proven to be the worst of little brothers.

Until now, Germany had thought himself able to read the atmosphere of a given situation. Nevertheless, he hadn't been able to foresee his brother's hurt feelings, which meant that his people skills must have been but a delusion. If it was indeed so, it spelled doom for his relationship's future. Who would have known that the bliss of having his feelings returned would end with his inability to follow Italy's cues!

"Are you worried about Prussia again? He did wish you a 'Christmas, did he not? We'll be there first hour in the morning and you'll be able to hug and make peace!" Italy said cheerfully before nibbling his shoulder.

"We don't hug!" Germany snapped, scooting over the other corner of the bed. "And would you stop with this unabated, shameless want of my body? It makes me feel like a piece of meat!"

Italy looked at him perplexed, opening his mouth and closing it like a fish out of water. "I'm not sure I'm following you, Germany. I _thiiink_ I may have a clue, but I'm not sure."

"It was a conversation slot!" Germany said, sounding more and more ridiculous to his own ears. "If you wanted to do another kind of activities, surely a proper transition was in order and—"

" _Ohh_." Italy punched his palm as though he had seen the light about something. "And here I thought we were resuming what happened in the tub!"

"I slipped!" Germany squawked. "I needed something to hold onto—"

"Mm." Italy's eyes had a dreamy look. "No, but you're absolutely right! I'm sorry I forgot to court you. How true it is that one can forget about romance in an established relationship!"

Germany turned to face the other way. "We haven't been together for _that_ long."

"Still, my bad!" Italy dropped on one knee and kissed his hand with a smile that reminded Germany of how girls ended up giggling themselves silly around him, falling prey of his Italian charm.

"You don't need to do that," Germany said in a choked voice that might not have sounded very convincing, after all.

"If you somehow got skinny as a noodle or developed a pot belly from all those beers you like to have, I would still want you. As long as we're together, I don't care about anything else." Italy's eyes were warm and limpid, and if only Germany wasn't somehow upset at the beer comment, he would be a hundred percent on cloud nine.

"I maintain a balanced diet," Germany said in his defense.

Italy giggled and crawled to where his backpack was, humming a Christmas carol to himself. "Here!" he said at last, producing a nicely wrapped package for Germany to see. "We didn't get to exchange our presents."

Germany held the present in both hands, carefully removing the adhesive tape so that the wrapping paper didn't tear. He set both the ribbon bow and the paper —a colorful, polka dot pattern with Christmas ornaments instead of tiny circles— on the bed, opening the hinged box last.

"It's made out of coins," Italy said simply.

Germany studied the bracelet in his palm, brushing the inscriptions with his fingertips. "Denarii," he said with wonder.

Italy nodded, hanging his arm on one of Germany's knees. "I know we agreed on books, but I wanted you to have this, since you always speak highly of grandpa Rome. I don't expect you to wear it, of course, unless you want to!" His fingers brushed Germany's ankle. "Do you like it?"

"I do. I really do, but I—" Germany let out a deep sigh, closing his fist around the bracelet. "I didn't even bring your present."

Italy pried his fingers open one by one, then eased the wrinkles on Germany's forehead with a kiss. "That's okay! You can describe it to me."

Germany shook his head, looking down. "It would be far better if you see it for yourself. It couldn't possibly compare to what you have given me, and I certainly wouldn't want to sound like I'm showing off over a minor thing."

"You won't, so pretty please? With a cherry on top? See, think of yourself as my eyes, Germany." Italy took Germany's hand and placed it over his closed eyelids. "Tell me! I won't interrupt you, pinky swear," he said, covering his mouth as well.

Germany looked at the fire crackling, felt the flutter of Italy's eyelashes and the warmth of his skin under his hand. "You had mentioned you collected old fairy tales books, and I happened to come across a collection."

Italy's neck vibrated with a humming sound, but he kept his promise otherwise. Germany found it easier to tell a story he had never told anyone before, about how he had visited every antique bookstore that he stumbled upon in his free time. He even confessed that he had gathered each title as a man on a hunt, enjoying the challenge and feeling the thrill of the chase in his bones.

"I can imagine!" Italy said, trying to hide his outburst with a cough and a chuckle, but Germany didn't mind.

"In this particular case, I guess it was the thrill of perusing second-hand shops hidden in narrow alleys, dusty bookcases and hand-made lists," he said, almost smiling at the memories if it hadn't been for what he remembered next.

"It was wartime. Air raids followed shortly." Germany wasn't in a position to complain about the bombardments, but he still remembered the raging fire, the loss of life, the ruins. He gulped to ease the lump on his throat.

Since Italy remained silent, Germany carried on. "In the end I could save but a single book, but it was a magnificent one, with a cover styled after golden filigrees, woodcut frames around the title pages and the kind of engraved, hand-colored illustrations I thought you would appreciate. It became part of my library after that, since I couldn't give it to you afterwards.

"I renewed my quest not long ago and was able to find another book from the collection. They're only two, but should you accept them, you may consider them as a promise. I will keep searching for the rest." Germany cleared his throat and shrugged. "Anyway, as I told you, it was only a trifle."

In answer, Italy took his hand and pressed his lips against the curve of his palm, tugging on his robe to kiss the length of his arm, the tip of his shoulder. " _Ti amo_ ," he said.

From Germany's point of view, Italy looked entirely pleased to have debunked all his theories about a relationship's power balance around those words. Not that Germany had ever shared his thoughts on that matter, so Italy had no way to know, but it was still clear that he didn't give a damn over who said it first. In fact, Italy only smiled and said _I love you_ again, and then enough times to fill the entire page of a pocket Moleskine, dropping kisses over Germany as though he were dotting i's.

"You love me because I'm a bibliophile?" Germany asked.

"For that reason and many others," Italy said.

He was hot against Germany's skin, soft and pliant as clay between his hands. Only the bumps of his spine were the closest to sharp, a whole new geography to be discovered as Italy arched his back and breathed in before calling his name in a whisper.

They tumbled into bed, and Germany kissed Italy's neck, didn't stop kissing him and memorizing the shape of his body, the feel of him, the scent of green hills and afternoons by the sea. Italy was warmth and color spilling over him, childlike innocence filling the void of his earliest memories.

" _Ich liebe Dich_ ," Germany whispered in his ear as though confiding a secret. _I love you. You have no idea how much I do_.

Italy smiled and traced his features, made a canvas out of Germany's skin and painted kisses along the length of him. "I know."


	9. 38.5°C

The book's corner dug into her flesh to keep her focused, but it didn't work. She had been reading the same line over and over again, supplying alternative readings only for fun. _He grabbed his [hot] friend's [toned] arm and gave him a knowing [I want to take you behind the barn and bed you on a haystack] smile_ , one of them went.

Her mind was definitely in the gutter tonight.

Hungary put the book over the nightstand and lay on her stomach, sliding her fingers over the empty side of her bed. Germany's guest rooms weren't just the envy of housewives and househusbands alike, they were a blessing in disguise. Such immaculate linens made it harder to want to spoil them, not that she would actually do something as crass, tempting as it was. She did have self-control to begin with, and well, there was always the bathtub if that failed.

She entertained the idea for a moment. Her pent up emotions needed a way out, and she couldn't think of anything better for that than a mix of soft candlelight, a pool of warm water hugging her body and her practiced touch. "It sounds like a plan," she confided to her pillow, "but first things first."

After stretching like a cat, she stood up and walked to the aisle, deciding to delay gratification in favor of checking on Prussia one more time. He had been sleeping without issue so far, but for her peace of mind... 

Said mind was full of filthy ideas as she made her way to his room, but she forgot it all when she heard him call her name in a croak.

"Hey," Hungary said, leaning on the threshold. "Need anything?"

His eyes were half-lidded and his cheeks flushed. "Could you... uh, water? Can be tap, don't care."

"I'll be right back, good sir."

She went to the kitchen and brought a bottle for him, as well as a bowl filled with tepid water. The only thing that was missing from the picture was a piece of cloth, so she started rummaging in his wardrobe with his blessing, an absent-minded little nod.

Everything was neatly put away as she expected it to be, and she couldn't help passing her hand through his clothes, remembering him wearing that t-shirt or that scarf. She was going to go crazy with yearning of the heart and of the loins, at this rate.

"Thing's awesome-proof," Prussia complained, pawing the cap until she went to his side.

"Let's see." Hungary opened the bottle for him, touching her fingers to his forehead while he drank in little gulps. "As I thought, your fever went up."

"Did not."

"Did too." Hungary exhaled and soaked the cloth she had found. "Do lie down when you're done drinking, won't you? So I can apply this fancy fever-breaking device here."

"Called you twice before," he mumbled, looking elsewhere as he slid against the headboard. "Called West first, 'cause I forgot."

She was pretty sure he hadn’t or she would have known, but perhaps he had been dreaming. "I'm sorry I didn't hear you. Maybe I should have set up camp here, eh?"

"Didn't kick you out, did I." He looked down, sniffling. "You went away on your own."

Hungary bit her lip, amazed at how adorable Prussia could be. "Strength," she whispered into her closed hand. "Give me strength or who knows what might happen."

"Say wha'?"

"Nothing! Now, be a good boy and lie down."

Prussia grumbled but played along, closing his eyes. She wiped the sheen of sweat covering his face before placing the cloth just below his hairline, fingertips brushing his brow. His expression relaxed, easing his frown.

"Listen, I really wish I had," she said, putting a lock of hair behind her ear. "I can't turn back time, but believe me when I say this. If I had known you were lonely, I would had come to you."

He didn't answer, so she contented herself with watching over him, tracing the shape of his profile in the air, just millimeters away from actual touch. Hungary hadn't seen him like this since they were small, his face completely slack and devoid of both his _loathsome_ grin and the _glare_ of his _demon_ eyes, in the words of her younger self.

His stillness had scared her, yes, but once she made sure the Teutonic Order was alive and kicking, she remained aghast at how foreign he seemed all of a sudden, so unlike the stupid boy she knew. Not only she had poked him until he woke up in a bad mood, she had also taunted him by saying that he looked pale and stiff like a corpse when he slept. But that wasn't true. What she hadn't been able to recognize as a child, she could appreciate now. He was a beautiful man.

The sheen returned to his face without effort on his part, droplets of sweat running freely down his neck. She wiped his skin and he stirred, a grunt coming from his lips.

"Uh… friend." Prussia's eyes went wide open then, blinking but otherwise fixed on the ceiling. Hungary failed to see what he saw, and when she looked back at him, his lips were parted, quivering slightly as though he were about to speak.

"Friend of a friend's puzzled," he said at last, chuckling to himself before his lids started to drop closed again.

"Why is he?" Hungary asked softly, pulling down the duvet so that he didn't feel as warm.

"Woman he... The woman _he_ ," Prussia said as if that made sense on its own. "Gave him the cold shoulder. She... always." His voice grew even more slurred, with tiny moans sprinkled here and there that made her heart ache. "Turned him down. For lunch and what have you. For reels and… and merry-go-rounds."

She changed the compress; he let out a puff of air.

He had never asked her on a fairground date as far as she remembered, not even when the only amusement park in all of East Berlin opened. She had been sore about it, but then again, she hadn't told him that she wanted to go either, and perhaps that's where the problem lay.

"Did she," Hungary said, touching his face. He was scorching hot, goddamn.

He gave her a feeble nod. "And now it seems like… like she wants him. Seems like she does, not sure. I'm confused."

She gulped and took his wrist between her fingers, counting one, two, three... "Well, what does he want?"

"What does he—? Don't know. Gotta ask France or Spain to ask him." He kicked the duvet to the side, crossing an arm over his chest. "Fuckin' sand."

"Hm?" she asked. His pulse was fast and rising.

"I told Germany," Prussia said, and Hungary paid attention. He hadn't called his brother that way since the early fifties at the very least. "Told him that for a Swabian, Rommel's okay. But the sand was fuckin' everywhere. It burns, for fuck's sake." He gave a deep sigh, mouth easing open as he drifted off.

Hungary picked the cloth from his forehead and soaked it up again. This wasn't going to cut it if she meant to break his fever, so she started to undo his shirt, pulling his arms out of the sleeves. He let out a little whine.

"Sorry, babe. It's this or stripping you naked to get you into a tub."

She tried to cool his neck, his chest, the inside of his arms. His torso was glistening, and she, who wasn't made out of stone, felt a spark between her legs. "Shit," Hungary mouthed, snickering at herself.

Prussia stirred again just as she passed the cloth over his wrist, throwing his hand over her lap. "You gonna put a ring on it? Before you have your way with me," he said with a giggle.

"From where do you get that idea?" she protested, omitting the fact she would be sporting a boner if her theory about human development had been right.

"Don't wanna? Ah."

He covered his chest in what seemed to be an attempt of modesty, and if it hadn't been for his dejected look, Hungary would have giggled. She wanted to tongue kiss him, too, but she only caressed his cheek. He shivered at her touch, or maybe it was her who shuddered with want. "You're sick."

"Yeah." Prussia buried his face in the pillow, drifting in and out of sleep. "Y'know," he said all of a sudden, "had I been human, I would've proposed."

Hungary blinked, waiting for a clue that told her he was joking, but he just kept at it, undaunted. "Wouldn't have needed, how'd you call it? Proof? Yeah. Proof I could make it just fine on my own," he said, and she remembered him standing proud after he became a fully-fledged kingdom. He made it look easy, but she knew it had been anything but.

"Besides, ain't that the thing to do? People, I'm told, fall in love and marry their childhood friend all the time. Like it's nobody's business, they do. Only you would've turned me down," Prussia tried to push his lips into a smile, only half succeeding, "all 'cause you dig artsy types, the likes of which can't even open a fuckin' jar."

She brushed his lower lip with one of her knuckles. "You're mistaken there. I'm actually crazy about men who can't open water bottles."

He looked up at her with glassy eyes.

"I would have married the hell out of you," Hungary said, in case that wasn't clear. It wasn't the first time she had thought about it, that their story would have been so different in a world where war and duty hadn't pulled them away from one another. A world where he hadn't mocked her for not having the reins of her own destiny and where she hadn't fallen out of love with him and married someone else. Of course that she would have said yes if they had let them be. "Do you think we would have lasted?"

"We would have," he said, outright serious. "After you were done throwin' dishes at me, we would've had wild sex and you'd forget it all the next day."

She laughed out loud, delighted. "And what else we would have done?"

"We would've had kids too. A cute one like Italy."

She pressed a hand over her stomach and smiled in spite of herself. He would have made a good dad. "And a serious one like Germany."

Prussia beamed at her with all the strength he could muster, which didn't seem to amount to much. She still loved his little smile. "And I would've built you a huge-ass stable. For all the horses you wanted, o' course," he said, and then, very quietly, "We would've grown old together."

 _Never mind a stable_ , Hungary thought, clearing her throat to ease the _huge-ass_ lump she had there. "You sure? Wouldn't you regret it the moment I became old and ugly?"

"Bullshit, I did never mind that. Fritz... When Fritz grew old..." His brow turned into a series of knots, and she squeezed his hand. "I wouldn't care 'bout all that, is what I'm sayin'. Even if you shrank to my knee. Heh, even if you got all wrinkled like a dried up prune."

"No, you wouldn't have," she conceded.

"See?" Prussia grinned at her, reaching out for her face. "Hungary, your eyes are sweating."

"Maybe. Now, go back to sleeping, you. That's enough ruckus you caused for one night." She wiped her _sweat_ with the back of her hand and gave him a peck on the lips. It was meant to be brief, but Prussia still whined when she broke off the contact.

"Shh," Hungary crooned until he went quiet, drifting off to sleep once again. She nursed him throughout the night, trying to cool down his body and watching the water dry off his skin until his temperature went down. Would he forget everything he said when he woke up? And what would she do if he did? Time and time again they had let many chances gone to waste because neither of them would say it like it is. Enough was enough.

Hungary left his side to turn off the lights of her room and came right back, lying next to him and placing a pillow between them. They had talking to do; she couldn't get sidetracked and jump his bones first thing in the morning. "Sleep tight," she whispered, closing her eyes for a moment as she listened to his breathing.

The moment turned out to be longer, however. Next thing she knew, light was coming through the window and landing right on her eyes.

"Merry Christmas." There was a lazy smirk spread on Prussia's face, a tad on the sordid side. Not that she minded. "I take it that you had your way with me? And don't bother denying it, as your hands would beg to differ," he said, raising his eyebrows and pointing downwards with his chin.

She looked in the same direction and found one of her hands around his left nipple. It would have been easy to pretend that she had been checking for his heartbeats, but given how she seemed to be groping muscle with gusto, she thought it unlikely. As for her other hand, this one had disappeared below the waistband of his pants and was now resting on his hipbone, as if about to reach for his ass.

"That's not okay," she said, but made no motion to mend her ways. At most, her stray hand settled on the small of his back.

"Nah, leave it." He nuzzled her cheek, then kissed the corner of her lips.

Hungary closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his skin against hers. "Really, I even put a pillow as a border marker."

"Uh-huh, and then you went and seized my vital regions anyway," he said, amused at the whole thing.

"Seize mine back, then." Hungary's voice was level, but she could feel her heart pounding against her chest and hear it drumming in her ears. Could he even tell?

Prussia gave her a wide smirk, hands down sordid this time around. Hungary seemed to have forgotten he could look this predatory, but damn if it didn't turn her on like a forest fire. At the same time, she got a little self-conscious when he came even closer. "Um, morning breath, do you mind that kind of thing?"

"I don't give two shits."

"Good," she said and threw her arms around him, fondling the length of his back as they had their first proper kiss since forever and a day. The house was empty except for the two of them, and she took the time to savor the moment, to let the thought of having him all for herself sink in.

She wanted it all with him, to be both forceful and gentle, to grab his nicely-shaped ass and woo him by whispering sweet nothings in his ear. While she could attempt the first without issue, the latter was more complicated. It would have meant to stop kissing him, and that was something she wasn't willing to do. Instead, she let her fingers roam, drawing a path from the tip of his right shoulder to the spot just behind his left ear. It tickled his skin and made him chuckle against her lips.

His smile was still there when they paused to catch a breath, cheeks flushed in the most endearing fashion. "I'm fine," he said when she put a hand on his forehead, just in case. "Really."

"Your temperature is okay, but." She held her palm to his face, brushing his cheek with her thumb. The arm he used to prop himself up had started to shake like a leaf.

He tried to shift his weight on the mattress, robbing her of the nice pressure on her thigh. "Shit, I got this. Give me a sec."

She kissed him a last time, nibbling on his lower lip as she pulled away. "No, lay back down," she said, dropping her nightgown on the floor before she rolled on her side. "You were quite sick and I'm a bit tired, so let's take it slow."

A hoot of laughter exploded in her ear. "Is that your idea of taking it slow?"

"Trust me on this and lose your pants already."

She pressed her back to his chest and he cupped her breasts, hugging her waist before his hand slid between her legs, following her cue. His breath was warm on her neck, and she couldn't feel happier with the way his body fit to her own. He was close, and then he was closer, moving inside her with slow strokes. 

A moan left her lips. She arched her body against him without thinking, rocking her hips to match his rhythm until he got a little keen with his thrusting. "Careful there or it'll slip," she warned, puffing her hair out of her face.

"Won't," he said, out of breath, "thing's like five meters long."

She burst out giggling and Prussia laughed too, ribs shaking against her spine. She pulled his arm closer to her and, after kissing his knuckles, she said, "I won't exactly argue with you there." Her voice oozed appreciation, which he paid in kind by fucking her just right. There was only him, the strength of his hold and the warmth of his skin.

He called her name once, twice. She would have loved to see the look on his face, but even if she had been able to turn, her eyes were closed. It felt good, too good. Behind her, Prussia breathed harder, feeling his way around the sheets to lock his fingers with hers. He was tensing up, trembling from head to toes, and even then she almost missed it— how hard he was trying not to let go just yet.

She pried his hand open, turning it with a gentle motion, and he let out a little gasp. "It's okay," she muttered, kissing his palm and sucking on his fingers. It broke his defenses down. He shouted a string of words ranging from _Oh fuck_ to _God, Hungary_ , and she couldn't help smiling wide. "Lovely," she said, pressing her lips on his wrist.

At last, his warmth filled her. It pushed her over the edge to feel him pulsing inside her, to know without doubt that he no longer was out of her reach. "Stay there. There," Hungary breathed, and he complied, embracing her tighter. Nothing else seemed to matter. She ended up coming with a scream, which might have been mortifying if only she had given a damn.

"I'll have to soundproof the room from now on." He spoke in a drawl, but there was still the hint of a smile on his voice. "It's a wonder you didn't bust the windowpanes."

Even though her body was prickling all over, she still found it in her to raise her voice in protest. "You're one to talk! I'll have you know your gentle pillow talk almost cost me my eardrums."

He caught her hand in his, passing his thumb over her ring finger. "Did I really say what I think I said last night? Out loud?"

Hungary turned to stare at him in the eye. "Do you remember what we talked about?"

For a moment, he squinted as if he were trying really hard to recall what went through. "Something about how you wanted to stick a thermometer up my ass?"

She gave his _toned_ arm a little slap. "I'm being serious, here!"

"I remember a few things," Prussia muttered, looking embarrassed all of a sudden and tugging at her heartstrings. He really had to stop doing that. "Marriage, huh?"

"You almost dropped on one knee," she said in a solemn tone. "I had to stop you."

He laughed awkwardly, the slightest shade of pink on his cheeks. "Did I, by any chance, hallucinate the part where you agreed to that?"

It was her turn to feel somehow shy herself. "No."

"Did you mean it? I don't mean the marriage part per se, of course."

"I know. We can't," she said, shaking her head in all seriousness. At least, she was fairly certain that countries didn't exchange vows without a treaty of some kind binding them both, regardless of how infuriating it was for them not to have a say in that. She wasn't going to lie, though, the thought of them —a divorced woman like herself and someone like him, who once led the life of a monk— running off somewhere and living in sin was sort of kinky in and of itself.

"Yeah, I mean the idea behind it. You know, sharing your life with me and all that entails, not just seizing vital regions but going on dates and staying home on rainy days and making out after we fight and fuck me sideways, I'm doing it all over again, aren't I? Holy shit, who the fuck confesses twice in a row when you haven't even—"

"I love you too," she said, placing her fingers over his lips and cuddling up to him. "Really fucking do. To pieces."


	10. By virtue of happenstance

Switzerland looked younger without the wrinkles on his brow, his face serene as though nothing in the world were a matter of grave concern to him.

"Don't look at me," he said unprompted, eyes closed and head comfortably settled on the pillows.

Austria smiled and sat on the border of the bed, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt in a seamless motion. Last night's blizzard had become but a memory by now, and the morning light filtered through the curtains in its stead, casting a soft glow on Switzerland's rich hair. "I'm only regarding you as anyone would do with a sight he doesn't often get to see."

"Hm." Switzerland considered this without taking offense, which had to be a first time occasion for him. "Are you getting ready to take your leave?"

"I did have a previous engagement," Austria said.

There was something to be said about the way their fingers overlapped for a moment, the kind of touch Austria would have never expected coming from him. One of his eyes cracked open as well, its color that of a still mountain lake. "Begone, then," Switzerland said with a tinge of amusement in his voice. It was a slight inflection, but who if not Austria, with his perfect pitch, could tell?

He took a bow and walked to the door, fingers wrapping around the handle. That was the moment Switzerland chose to speak again. "There's no need for the likes of you to be a stranger from now on, so don't get lost somewhere."

Before he slipped outside the room, Austria arched an eyebrow. "I don't plan to. The heart knows where the home is, or so people say."

Switzerland's lips curved just the slightest. "You better remember it, then."

Austria hummed in agreement and closed the door behind him, finding Liechtenstein's petite figure a few meters away. She looked radiant and beautiful, her nightgown revealing the soft curve of her bare shoulders.

"I don't believe I can persuade you to stay."

She cast down her eyelashes, fingertips treading along the shape of her collarbone. Would that he could stay, indeed, and write entire symphonies on the canvas of her milky skin. Alas, a promise was a promise, and considering the lengths that Germany had gone to find him, Austria felt in debt.

"It won't be the last time we see each other. You have my word, and—"

"Yes," Liechtenstein said and placed her delicate fingers over his heart for a brief moment. She accompanied him to the door, waiting until he had donned his coat and scarf to hand him a small bundle.

"A little something for the road, as way of breakfast."

Austria blinked. It was obvious that she had packed the food with utmost care, and he couldn't help caressing the kerchief, its clear-cut folds and the elaborate bow made out of the same fabric. It had been a long time since anyone had such a thoughtful, intimate gesture towards him. "Thank you kindly."

She shrugged, smiling.

Austria regarded her as though for the first time. With wonder, when he thought of how certain he had been about love being a thing of the past. With tenderness, when he remembered the depth of her feelings and her unfounded self-doubt. He leaned in and kissed her smile, a chaste goodbye kiss that deepened ever so slightly.

"Wait," Liechtenstein said, taking the ribbon she wore on her hair between her fingers. She folded it left and right, pulling one of the ends to reveal a small rose she fastened on the buttonhole of his lapel. "See you next Friday, then."

"Four o'clock sharp," he reminded her, feigning a stern tone she replied to with another smile. 

"Godspeed," she whispered, waving before she went inside.

Austria sighed, put a hand over his diaphragm to quell whatever was the matter —a butterfly-like flutter would have been ludicrous of him, indeed— and went straight to Germany’s house instead of taking a shortcut like last time.

.

"Your stupid sense of direction is a thing of wonder." Prussia cackled, and before Austria could decide whether that was meant as an offense or a compliment, the fool embraced him, taking the air out of his lungs. Behind them, Hungary let out a sigh and snapped a picture of the two of them.

"Do take a seat while we wait for the boys to come home." Hungary set the table, placing a water bottle next to Prussia's coffee. "We don't want you to get dehydrated. ♥"

"No, we don't. ♥" Prussia replied in the same sweet tone, and if Austria didn't chuckle, it was only because he would have blown bubbles in his tea in the process, which would have been decidedly improper.

Hungary sat between them, and after casting a fond look at Prussia, she turned her attention to her left, an odd little smile on her lips.

"Is something the matter?" Austria asked without meeting her eyes.

She shrugged, propping her face on her hands. "You have the kind of look that says—"

"I got laid," Prussia crudely confided to the cookie he held between his fingers, then giggled like a schoolgirl before he bit the gingerbread man's head off.

"Don't use that kind of coarse language at the table, you ninny," Austria said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, _don't_ ," Hungary concurred, even though her expression betrayed where her loyalties lay. " _On the table_. Write that down," she whispered to Prussia, and he laughed like a deviant old man.

Austria cleared his throat, and at least they had the presence of mind to look sheepish. Feeling satisfied, he raised the cup to his lips to hide a smile, not without saying first, "It took you two long enough."


	11. A cold day in hell

"And then Germany dropped all our things, which is when I noticed something was wrong, since he's never clumsy; now, perhaps in certain moments he may become all fingers and thumbs, you know, out of excitement, but he's otherwise precise like a well-oiled machine, or rather, how was it, Germany? An instance of state-of-the-art technology," Italy spoke in an unbroken stream of words, eyes alight with something akin to pride upon remembering the exact phrasing. "I do read the looong work-related e-mails you send, Germany, even if I doze off in the middle of them now and then."

Hungary giggled, and if Germany hadn't been running a fever already, his cheeks would be red with embarrassment.

"Relax and don't worry about it, West. I was on the brink of death, but look at me now! I'm the very picture of health!" Brother puffed his chest, then coughed a lung out.

Austria stood from a safe distance, a teacup in hand. "Germany, you should really stay in bed, if not in quarantine."

Hungary nodded, eyeing Brother sideways with a look he would have deemed dreamy if only it had been aimed to someone else. "You'll be good as new in no time, Germany, I'm sure."

"I better," Germany said in an undignified, nasal tone, thinking of the —neat, alphabetically-organized and color-coded— pile of work that awaited him once the holidays were over.

His prompt recovery turned out to be wishful thinking, however. If anything, his health worsened to the point where the hours passed in a blur, and reality acquired the indistinct texture dreams were made of. 

Eventually, Germany thought he heard the metallic ring of an old telephone, the kind of which he hadn't heard for years now. Except for the ringtones of youngsters who were of the opinion that retro was cool, that is. He tried to reach for Italy's sleeve— it was a taxing enterprise on his part, yet all he managed was a feeble result in the form of a little tug. "Did someone call?"

"Hm? A few hours ago," Italy said, caressing his face. "It's better if you rest some more, Germany."

Germany's eyes opened to a slit. "Who was it? Was it work-related?"

"Oh, just France, who was wondering whether your illness was a matter of concern to us all, but Prussia told him—"

His eyelids decided to drop out of their own accord, but France followed him into the realm of dreams, his rich, at times obnoxious laughter echoing through the empty rooms and hallways of a derelict palace.

_It's a troubling matter, don't you think? To bear such weight on your shoulders_ , France-in-a-dream said. The morning cast a soft light on his tailored dark blue coat and white undercoat, an uniform Germany remembered from early 19th century's colored plates.

_It didn't work out with the Holy Roman Empire, but it will be different this time. For once, it's not about Prussia and Austria; it's us who stand together. Who would have thought?_ France laughed again, the golden buttons of his undercoat shaking along with him. _Just be careful, would you? We'll be fine as long as Brussels doesn't get sick, too_.

A single jerk pulled him out of the dream.

"Calm down, West." His brother's voice reached him among shadows. "Hey, you'll have to call in sick."

"I have _never_." Germany took offense, his throat dry and aching. "Hell shall freeze over before—"

" _Sure_ , West. _Whatever_ you say." Brother said, rolling his eyes just before Germany's own felt heavy again.

Hell's thermostats, it turned out, didn't mark his words and kept running like a regularly tuned piece of machinery, the kind of clockwork performance he would have appreciated from a purely objective point of view had his body not felt as though it were on fire.

A woman's touch fell upon him then, her fingers taking hold of his wrist. _Come_ , she said but a word, and Germany, like others before him, followed Beatrice out of the Underworld without asking any questions.

Once in Paradise, the light blinded him even with his eyes closed shut. _I'll see to it_ , the same voice let him know, a hint of good cheer in it.

He thanked her and she pulled the curtains until the room was filled with a warmer glow, for it was summer. He was in a room now, Germany realized, and his body, although smaller and more frail, was free of the fever's grip.

Through the door, which was ajar, music filtered and reached his ears. At once, he knew it was Austria who played the piano from the ground floor, picturing the plasticity in his otherwise rigid stance as though Germany were standing next to him. Italy, who was only a child, slept soundly at his side.

Hungary put her hand over his forehead then, and he recognized the same gentle touch from before. _It's okay_ , she whispered, and upon hearing these words, he woke up.

"How are you feeling?"

Germany blinked once or twice before he took a look at his surroundings. Italy, as a matter of fact, was sprawled next to him just like in the dream, while Brother slumbered on a chair. "Fine, I guess. Did I sleep too much?"

"A few hours, this time, but you've been in bed for a couple of days. Then again, if you count—"

"What!"

"Shh," Hungary said, bringing a finger to her lips. Italy mumbled something about pasta and Brother stirred, dropping the blanket he had on his lap as he turned to the side. Both kept on sleeping, nevertheless.

"I'm sorry."

Hungary smiled and went to pick up the blanket, wrapping it around Brother's shoulders with a care that left Germany speechless. If this was yet another lucid dream, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

"Would you like chicken soup? I was going to have some myself, but since you're awake..."

"If it's not a bother," Germany said, stomach rumbling on cue and cheeks suddenly warm.

Hungary pursed her lips not to laugh, he supposed. "I'll be right back."

.

"Your brother was quite worried," Hungary said in a low voice, raising the spoon to her lips. "We all were, but I guess that's how it goes. You hardly ever get sick, so when the flu gets ahold of you, it truly gets to you."

Germany cleared this throat. "I didn't mean to worry all of you."

She waved a hand to dismiss his concerns. "Don't mention it. Some of us did consider the implications of it, you know? As in, _Oh my God, what does it mean if our economic powerhouse par excellence falls down too?_ But it was more lighthearted fun than anything else. You're better now, and that's what's important," she said, patting his arm.

"Oh God," it was Germany's turn to say. "What happened with work? I had a full schedule and—"

"There, there. Prussia has been taking care of that while you were out for the count."

"Brother? But he's out of the loop with—" Germany's voice grew smaller as soon as he noticed the stern look on her face. "Uh, I didn't mean it that way."

"Of course you didn't." Hungary raised an eyebrow. "Either way, I'm sure he reached an understanding with your _East German_ chancellor and your _East German_ president."

_Point taken_ , Germany thought, but remained quiet in hopes to appease her.

"And besides, he used to distinguish himself at the things he did. I don't think I need to remind you that." Hungary eyed Brother in the same way she had done earlier, and while one was an incident, two was not only a coincidence, it begged at least a couple of questions.

"I know."

"Just don't tell him I praised him. No, wait, I forgot we were— Duh." She rolled her eyes, then gave one of her cheeks a little slap. "Do tell him, by all means."

"I will."

"Good."

Germany couldn't help smiling, certain by now that there were grounds for a pattern. Just how long had he been sleeping again, for him to miss it?

"And do eat your soup before it gets cold." Hungary scolded him in jest before following her own advice, and as they ate in silence, Germany had the impression that something, although he couldn't quite pinpoint what, had fallen into place at last.


	12. What are you doing this Silvester?

"Are you sure you don't want to skip lunch for a quickie?" he asked, crossing his arms to brave the beastly strong wind that meant to push over the likes of him, a vigorous man in his prime. Not that he minded, of course, as long as it made him bump against her shapely form.

Hungary smiled that particular smile of hers, equal parts lovely and damn sexy, her eyes half-closed as if she were giving the idea the amount of consideration it deserved.

"No," she said at last.

Prussia deflated. "No?"

"Nope." She wrapped a scarf around his neck, her thumb brushing his cheek. "You've been sick and now you're a bit overworked, so you have to be properly nourished."

He looked down and fidgeted a little, smiling all the way despite the cold. "I thrill when you worry about me."

In answer, Hungary took his hands between hers and let out a puff of air to warm them. "See, I want you strong and healthy—"

"—to fuck you lovingly against the wall like the other day?" he asked, remembering how they had sneaked from West's room, and done it like those wildlife specials on TV.

"Yeah."

"Okay!"

And so they favored a simple, alfresco meal, except that the weather was so awful that they had to take shelter inside the car, balancing their food so that it didn't land on their clothes nor on the upholstery, lest a certain someone lost it when Prussia gave him the keys back. He had to buy a new air-freshener, too, seeing as how he had serious doubts about West's appreciation for the fine scent of currywurst all over the place.

"How is it going with your chancellor?"

Prussia pondered on this as he munched on a bunch of fries. _His chancellor_. Funny how that sounded. He had been bossless for twenty odd years now. "Fine, actually! She stockpiles too, can you believe it? _Get out of here, you too?_ I said, and it proved insightful because now I see I had been stockpiling happiness pandas, except that I didn't realize it and, well, West didn't get it."

Hungary let her cheek fall against the headrest, watching him with a sweet sort of expression. "But they worked in the end, didn't they? Your pandas."

"I'm one lucky bastard," he told her.

"I'm lucky too," she said then, and fuck the upholstery, Prussia leaned in to give her a kiss that was hot and spicy, and he wasn't even talking about the curry. It was the touch of paprika, for sure.

He licked his lips; she checked whether she still had any lipstick left. She didn't, which meant that he was the one wearing _Eclectic Cherry Berry_ now, or whatever the shade's name was. It did nice things to his complexion. "Hey, so West is already taking care of his share of things—"

"While still in bed?"

"You know him," he said, snorting just before she fed him some pieces of wurst.

"That boy, _really_." Hungary rolled her eyes and ate the fries he fed her in return.

"Well, he did say you praised me," Prussia paused to chuckle to himself, "and he also said something I found interesting, that it would be good if, after this stint, I got involved with the foundation that deals with Prussian cultural heritage, or the agency that deals with the Stasi archives, because I obviously have legacy _everywhere_ , awesome being that I am. _Huh, that's not a bad idea_ , I said, because it wasn't, and then I told him I might even get involved with both, because why not, and what do you think?"

"I love you and I'm happy for you," Hungary said, in this really nice way that wasn't like, _Good for you, you poor thing_ , but more like _You're blistering hot and I want you in my pants_.

He let out a happy little sigh before giving her a peck. "Anyway, I'll have some free time now that West will take back the reins, so I was wondering, what kind of plans do you have for New Year's Eve?" he asked, drawing circles with his fork as he waited for her answer.

"Gosh, I don't know. I would have to ask my man," she said, shaking her head.

"Oh, I see." Prussia set to build a tiny fort made out of a leftover fry he had cut in dices, which ended up toppling before he even realized what she had meant in the first place. "Wait, I'm your man, aren't I?"

She chuckled. "Yes, you are."

"Heh. Well, what does my woman want?"

"She would love it if you dropped by." There was a deep, raspy quality to her voice that send a jolt straight to someplace sensitive to that kind of overtures. "I would be in charge of dinner to thank you for last time, of course. We can fool around the kitchen and then you can have me as main course."

"On the table," he blurted, unable to help himself. She nodded. "It sounds more than fine by me. And then we can do something cute like melting lead and watch it take obscene shapes."

"It's a deal, then." Her fingers curled around his shoulder in a tentative gesture. "Do you still have a couple of minutes, by any chance?"

"Aw, man! I had forgotten I have to come back." He looked at his watch, then back at her with a sense of urgency. "Only a few, I'm afraid."

"I'll keep the count in my head. Let's make out till then." Hungary threw her arms around his neck, kissing him deep and sweet, and for such a short amount of time, memorably.

"May the end of the year be here already," he said, a stupid smile on his face.

"Are you sure you won't miss Berlin's firecracker rampage if you come to my house?" she asked, her fingertips trailing the pattern of his tie.

Prussia kissed her lips. "Baby, _please_. We'll rattle the windows _our_ way."


End file.
